Big George alone remained upon the wharf. As he saw the rush coming he had ordered his men to abandon their load; then he ran to the after-mooring, and, taking slack from a deck hand, cast it off. Back up the dock he went to the forward hawser, where, at a signal, he did the same, moving, toward the last, without excessive hurry, as if in a spirit of bravado. The ship was clear, and he had not cut a hawser. He had done his work; all but a ton or two of the cargo was stowed. There was no longer cause for delay.
"Get aboard! Are you mad?" Emerson shouted, but the cry never reached him. Back he came slowly, in front of the press, secure in his tremendous strength, defiance in his every move, a smouldering challenge in his eyes; and noting that gigantic frame with its square-hewn, flaming face, not one of his enemies dared oppose him. But as he passed they yapped and snarled and jostled at his heels, hungry to rend him and only lacking courage.
As yet the ship, although throbbing to the first pulsations of her engines, lay snug along the piling, but gradually her stern swung off and a wedge of clearance showed. Almost imperceptibly she drew back and rubbed against the timbers. A fender began to squeeze and complain. The dock planking creaked. Sixty seconds more and she would be out of arm's-reach, and still George made no haste. Again Boyd shouted at him, and then with one farewell glower over his shoulder the big fellow mounted a pile, stretched his arms upward to the bulwarks, and swung himself lightly aboard.
Even yet Emerson's anxiety was of the keenest; for, notwithstanding the stress of these dragging moments, he had not forgotten Fraser, the vagabond, the morally twisted rascal, to whose courage and resourcefulness he owed so much. He strained his eyes for a glimpse of the fellow, at the same time dreading the sight of a uniform. Would the ship never get under way and out of hailing distance? If those officers had discovered their mistake, they might yet have time to stop him. He vowed desperately that he would not let them, not if he had to take The Bedford Castle to sea with a gun at the back of her helmsman. He made his way hurriedly to the bridge, where he hastily explained to Captain Peasley his evasion of the officers; and here he found Cherry, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement, but far too wise to speak to him in his present state of mind.
A scattered shower of missiles came aboard as the strikers kept pace with the steamer to the end of the slip, exciting the fishermen, who had again mounted the rigging, to a simian frenzy. Oaths, insults, and jeers were hurled back and forth; but as the big steamer gathered momentum and slid out of her berth, they grew gradually more indistinct, until at last they became muffled, broken, and meaningless. Even then the rival ranks continued to volley profanely at each other, while the Captain, with hand on the whistle-rope, blew taunting blasts; nor did the fishermen descend from their perches until the forms on the dock had blurred together and the city lay massed in the distance, tier upon tier, against the gorgeous evening sky.
CHAPTER XIX
IN WHICH A MUTINY IS THREATENED
Even after they were miles down the Sound, Boyd remained at his post, sweeping the waters astern in an anxious search for some swift harbor craft, the appearance of which would signal that his escape had been discovered.
"I won't feel safe until we are past Port Townsend," he confessed to
Cherry, who maintained a position at his side.
"Why Port Townsend? We don't stop there."